Quietly, Ayt said, “Even now, you don’t know what I’m capable of, Kaul-jen.”
Shae felt a shiver travel down her spine, but she replied calmly. “I’m perfectly aware that you’ve always done what you deem necessary, no matter how terrible. But I also believe you when you say you did them not for your own satisfaction, but for the good of your clan and country. What would be good for them now, Ayt-jen? For you to resign willingly, to transition power to your nephew—even if you judge him and his family to be lacking—or to unleash bloodshed that’ll tear your clan apart and set it back for years to come?”
When Ayt did not answer, Shae once again wished intensely that she still possessed her sense of Perception. The Pillar’s face was suddenly as unreadable as blank marble.
She touched her bare throat, where her jade had once rested. We’ve lost so much, all of us. She and Ayt Mada could never escape the rivalry of their clans, but they understood each other, as women who were green in a man’s world.
“Do you remember the story from history about King Eon II?” she asked the Pillar. “He gave up his throne in disgrace. His supporters wanted him to continue to fight, but he laid down his crown to spare the country from further destruction and suffering. Even though the people couldn’t understand or appreciate his sacrifice, he ensured the nation could rise in the future without him. Only he, the gods, and those in later generations whom he would never meet, would know he did the right thing.
“Do the right thing now, Ayt-jen. Step down peacefully, and I promise you that I’ll prevail upon my brother to forge a lasting truce between the clans. We’ll renounce the blood feud that’s existed between us ever since Lan died.” Speaking Lan’s name seemed to stir something in the room, and inside Shae’s chest. “No Peak will pledge friendship and brotherhood to your nephew Ayt Ato. Together, we’ll lay out a plan that will bring the clans together, gradually and equitably.”
The corners of Ayt’s mouth lifted in humorless irony. “So now, after years of war, when you finally hold the advantage, you’d have me believe you’re in favor of bringing the clans together? Do you expect me not to see that you mean the No Peak clan will conquer the Mountain?”
Shae shook her head. “The time for conquest is past us. Our clans are too large to merge unwillingly. The younger Green Bones on both sides have fought alongside each other against clanless and foreigners more often than they’ve fought each other, and the older ones have seen enough war. If you pass the position of Pillar down to your nephew, Hilo and I will retire within five years, and all the old grudges can finally leave with us.”
Ayt was silent for a long minute. She did not look at Shae but instead stared out the large windows. A slight curve to her shoulders suggested a dragging, unseen weight. At last she asked, “Your Pillar will agree to this?”
“He will.” As it had become apparent No Peak would not only survive Ayt’s scheming but emerge ahead of its rivals in the public eye, the conversations she’d had with Hilo on the patio had turned toward talk of the future, and how to secure the clan’s strength. “I can’t swear on my jade anymore, but I would.”
Ayt closed her eyes, then opened them again. They glittered from within a nest of hard wrinkles. “Many years ago, Kaul Shae-jen, I sought you out. I wished to persuade you to join me, to chart a stronger course for our clans and the country. You refused. Ever since then, I have hated and admired you for that choice. Surely, you see the irony of this moment, as you sit here, trying to convince me to accept your vision instead of mine.”
“Look at us, Ayt-jen.” Shae sighed, from deep within her core. “We’re old women now. We’ve tried to kill each other for so long and instead by some cruel luck we owe each other our lives. Maybe it’s time we stepped away and let the next generation try to do better than we did.”
Ayt finished her tea and stood. Without looking at Shae again, she crossed to the window and became an outward gazing statue once more, but now the reddening light struck her differently, turning her from the still figure of a waiting general to that of a lone survivor on the empty battlefield.
“Perhaps you were right, Kaul-jen, on that day in the Temple of Divine Return. The cruelest thing you ever did to me was not slit my throat.” The Pillar said, “Leave me. You’ve said and done enough.”
_______
Shae sat in the Cabriola. The sun was slowly descending behind the trees. She had been in the car for over an hour. One of her bodyguards stayed in the car with her, and the other stood around nearby, but they did not interrupt her thoughts.